


//agreement

by MostlyAMan



Category: Dark Souls
Genre: Armor Kink, M/M, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 14:26:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2854145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostlyAMan/pseuds/MostlyAMan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Surely, you don't think he got those Sunlight Medals by -helping-?</p>
            </blockquote>





	//agreement

He held the Warrior to his body, uncomfortably close, metal to metal. The Shotel's elegant curve fit comfortably in the chink between helm and neck, nestled against skin so rarely exposed-- with a quirk of his wrist the wrong way, irreparable damage would be dealt.  
  
Lautrec  _always_  played to win.

  
  
Heavy breath moistened the inside of his captive's helm, pale eyes desperately trying to look away from the suddenly too-bright, coruscating armour. Lautrec was a mocking beast, the sun's rays making him difficult to behold; he was more than he could have willed, his presence  _too_  strong, too--  
  
"What is it, Astoran?" Lautrec smirked, behind his protective grille. He struck a plated thigh to his catch's armoured chest, pushing him back onto a deadly keen blade; soft flesh gave slightly, enough to shock the man, made him freeze, hold his breath. "Are you afraid?" he rumbled, possessive, words like soured honey dripping from a serpent's forked tongue.  
  
"No... No, not of you, friend," he forced, inhalations shaky, uneven things. The body was always so much more honest than the empty words; Lautrec knew it all too well. "We have an agreement, surely, there is no need for...  _unpleasantness_ , yes?"  
  
Lautrec paused.  
  
"...  _No_ ," came a deliberate roll of words, a calculated reply. "There isn't,"  
  
His exhalation shook, allowing a fleeting sense of relief without letting the tension go.  
  
"But..."  
  
The dread welled, bubbled up his throat like bile.  
  
"There is something yet. The matter of my payment-- my men aside, it need only be me, you needn't exert yourself. 'Tis... only fair, hm?"  
  
His mouth was dry, petrified.  
  
"What...?"  
  
A dry, edged chuckle echoed within the man's helm.


End file.
